Title: Ebulliometry: A Crash Course
Disclaimer: Property of Bruno Heller
Author's Note: Wow – after posting my first chapter I didn't think many people were into this story, but Chapter 2 seems to have had a bigger response (maybe it was the giant fry?) – thank you all so much for your amazing reviews! I will try to do individual replies; to those of you posting as guests, I will aim to answer any questions here (although some of them will be answered very soon anyway)! Moko – no, from Chapter 2 onwards it's only from either Jane or Lisbon's perspective. The first chapter was actually written about a year ago (in a different style) and this whole thing was intended to be a one-shot, but obviously that didn't pan out! Also, a blanket response to people who like John: thank you! I like him too; I wanted someone who would be a good friend to Lisbon as well as a real romantic threat for Jane to contend with. Reine – your IAGF is in an invisible FedEx box on its way to you now! (Also: yes. Yes, he is.)
Hope you enjoy Chapter 3!
She comes into work early the next day, prepared for war.
She makes a quick circuit around Jane's usual lurking spots, but doesn't find him. That's not unexpected. Chicken, she thinks, scowling. Still, it's a comfort to know that he'll be a few steps behind by the time he arrives.
John's phone call last night had been from his boss's boss, Assistant Director Adler, who wanted to know why he'd received an angry call from California's Attorney General, harping on at him for poaching two of his best assets in the CBI. Adler wasn't particularly in the mood for hearing how, exactly, this diplomatic tangle had arisen, but he had promised the AG that any poaching-in-progress would cease immediately. "So stop playing recruiter, Fox, and leave Teresa Lisbon and Patrick Jane alone."
"Jane?" she had repeated incredulously. "Why does… Oh, why am I asking?" she grumbled.
Her own phone call had been from Bertram, sounding world-weary. "Lisbon," he'd groaned, "why am I hearing from the AG, of all people about this ridiculous issue?"
"I'm sorry, sir –"
"Do you know what he said? Apparently, the FBI are intending to pilfer Mr Jane as well, now. The information they have is that, despite wishing to work with the CBI, he'd follow you if you went to the FBI." He sighed. "Much as Mr Jane is a colossal pain in the proverbial, I'd much rather retain his skills if it's all the same to you. So please, Agent Lisbon, grant me the ability to sleep tonight, and reassure me that the two of you aren't going anywhere."
"I promise, sir," she'd assured him.
To John, she'd ranted and raved for a while before swearing revenge.
He'd rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as she cooled down. "Well, objectively, I guess I can't exactly blame him for trying to get you to stay," he offered. "Subjectively, I'd like to kick his ass from here to Corfu, but I'm pretty sure you've earned that right more than I have."
Her smile had been tempered by the frustration and anger still bubbling in her blood. "I'm so sorry, John," she'd said quietly. "So much for our dinner, huh?"
To her surprise, he'd leaned in close, cupped her cheek and pressed a firm kiss to her lips. "Been wanting to do that for nine years," he murmured, his breath warm against her mouth. "Not exactly in these circumstances, but…"
She'd kissed him mid-sentence, heart fluttering in her throat as he wound his fingers through her hair and she gripped his shirt. On any other day, it could have been a perfect kiss – the slide of his mouth roughly against hers, tongue scraping her teeth – but it had been ruined by the usual suspect. Patrick Jane, Chief Ruiner on High.
John was a good man. He understood that the kiss wasn't a prelude to sex or a relationship. And he'd understood – and agreed to – her plan to get even.
"Oh my gosh," Jane hears Eleanor, the young trainee filing clerk saying excitedly as he stands in line for the CBI security desk. "I just think it's so romantic, don't you?"
Agnes, the much older lady who allegedly works in filing as well – but predominantly sits on her butt while making Eleanor do most of the work – harrumphs. "Betrayal, is what it is," she grouses. "I'm no spring chicken, but even I know what it means to leave the CBI for those show-offs at the FBI. She's a traitor, through and through!"
Jane smirks and congratulates himself on a spot of excellent pot-stirring. Brenda Shettrick has done good work, too, to have spread this rumour so far, so quickly.
"It's for love, though," Eleanor argues bravely. "I mean, if they're engaged, it's hardly a fling."
Jane frowns. He hadn't quite said 'engaged' to Brenda – merely hinted at the possibility of romantic involvement. It's rather irresponsible of her, he thinks, to have taken liberties with rumour-editing.
At the barrier, he catches Eddie and Frank eyeing him warily. On any other day, he might have smiled, but today he makes sure to scowl, snatching up his wallet and keys and grunting as he passes them. He can feel the stares on his back, and sees people giving him a wide berth in the hallway. Perfect.
The elevator is another ideal place to add fuel to the fire. He slumps against the back wall, injecting a certain air of desperation into his expression and stance. He's deliberately gone unshaven today, and messed up his hair just enough to look like a man with little to care about. When there are enough people in the elevator, he even throws in a heavy, sad sigh for good measure.
Many of the women gaze at him sympathetically, and he offers them a watery smile.
He's even better at this than he remembered.
At the next floor, another two people squeeze in. They don't see him through the crowd. "I don't believe it," says Bill Hannon, from Narcotics. "Isn't she with that lunatic? The consultant?"
"Well, believe it or don't," says Stacy Lane, a member of the Rapid Response squad, "but she's wearing the ring."
His heart does a double-thump.
Ring?
No, he reassures himself. No, it'll be a mistake. A miscommunication… somehow.
He sees a few of the other occupants of the elevator glancing at him cautiously; one or two look as though they might try to alert the two agents to his presence, but nobody is bold enough to step up to the plate.
"Jesus," Bill mutters. "I thought she and that guy were attached at the hip."
"Pretty sure they were," Stacy replies. "You ask me, she did herself a favour ditching him. You're right – he's a lunatic. She's better off."
Bill whistles. "We'd better steer clear – bet you anything he'll go off the deep end."
The elevator mercifully disgorges its contents one floor below the SCU, leaving him briefly alone with his thoughts. Okay, he thinks. Okay, things are basically going as planned. He has no clue what this ring business is, but he can work around it. All he needs to do now is lure Wainwright in – bleeding heart that he is – and everything will be set.
By the time he reaches the bullpen, he's fully prepared for the next stage.
But he stops in his tracks when he walks in on Van Pelt squealing, embracing Lisbon… and the large banner hanging on the wall that says, 'Congratulations'.
Rigsby is grinning widely, a party hat on his head and trails of party-popper all over his shoulders. Even Cho is smiling, serving up pieces of cake on paper plates.
Jane hangs back slightly, glancing at his watch. It's ten-thirty – surely, no matter how quickly the rumour might have spread since he first 'leaked' it to Brenda just before nine, the team couldn't possibly have had time to do all this. So when…?
And then the breath leaves his lungs altogether.
Because as Lisbon draws back from Van Pelt, he sees it.
Glinting brightly from her left hand… an engagement ring.
No, he thinks. No.
It's the only coherent thought he produces for the next full minute.
And then she sees him out of the corner of her eye, turns and beams at him. His heart seems to stutter and stop, and he recoils automatically. Her smile drops instantly; she looks sad and hurt.
It was supposed to be a lie, he thinks desperately.
But it isn't a lie when he sees John Fox sweep easily past him, as though he isn't even there. It isn't a lie when he catches Lisbon around the waist and pulls her close for a happy, carefree kiss.
And it isn't a lie when Jane's stomach lurches dangerously, and he staggers backwards, turning from the sight and leaving them to themselves.
Van Pelt is staring after Jane, her large expressive eyes full of sadness. "Oh, boss, I feel so bad…"
Lisbon shakes her head. "No, this is all part of his act, Van Pelt. Don't let him fool you." But her brain offers her an image of his face before he ran – wounded and betrayed – and she can't help but wonder… "No," she says again, more to herself than the team. "This is Patrick Jane we're talking about, there's no way he wouldn't read the lie."
Then, before she forgets, she touches Van Pelt's elbow gently. "Thanks, by the way – I'm pretty sure being asked to throw a fake engagement party for your boss with twelve hours' notice is classed as 'above and beyond the call of duty'."
Van Pelt smiles self-consciously, as gracious as her given name, but Lisbon catches her eyes straying to the space where Jane stood more than once.
John lifts his arm from her waist to accept the plate of cake Cho is offering. "Why are we trying to fool him if he'll know we're lying, exactly?"
Lisbon watches with amusement as he peels the icing off and eats it first. "Because he won't be able to admit he knows it's a lie without also admitting to having set us up." She shrugs. "Of course, he's usually pretty shameless about this sort of thing, so…"
John splits the cake in half and offers it to her. "We didn't get dessert last night," he says, by way of explanation.
She raises an eyebrow. "You want me to accept this lump of sponge without frosting? Thanks, honey."
"You're welcome, my sweetest darlingest pooch."
She smacks him in the belly and catches Cho eyeing them shrewdly. "I don't know," he says flatly. "I can see kinda why he'd buy it."
Half an hour passes, and Jane doesn't return. Of course, it isn't unusual for him to spend hours in that attic of his, but the image of his face keeps repeating on her, until eventually she cracks. She's been unable to get any work done, anyway, because people keep stopping by to congratulate her and try to extract more information about whether or not she's actually taking a job as a Fed or just marrying one.
A disturbing number of them keep asking about Jane. Does he know yet? What did he say? Is he happy for you? Will he stay at the CBI? Does he seem a little… off?
This last question is the one that alarms her the most. If Jane has been lurking in the attic since finding out about the 'engagement', then why are people talking as though he has been roaming through the building like Heathcliff on the moors?
Something about this is most definitely not right, she thinks.
Eventually, she decides to just head up there and have the inevitable discussion. She's sure it will involve lengthy, unwanted analysis of her thought processes and choices and – probably – her entire life until now, but at this point, she just wants everybody to get back on track.
She's on her way out of her office when John jogs up to her. He's been playing scrabble with Cho for a little while, killing time until his flight this afternoon. "Everything OK?" he asks. "Are we going to stir the rumour mill a little more? Kimball just suggested we could freak everybody out by going to city hall."
She snorts. That is pretty good, she has to admit. "No, uh – actually I was going to confess all. I mean, you're going home later, it has to end sometime, right?"
His gaze is warm. "You feel bad, don't you?"
"Yeah, I do." She shrugs. "What can I s –?"
"Lisbon! John!"
She looks up in utter astonishment to see Jane bounding towards them, a large smile on his face. "I am so, so sorry," he says, completely sincere, when he reaches them. "I was a little taken aback earlier. I can't believe I was so rude – I didn't even offer you my congratulations."
And just when she thinks she can't get any more surprised, he reaches around and pulls them both into a hug. "Uh," she squeaks against his vest, "Jane?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Lisbon." He releases her. "Listen – let's all go out for lunch. My treat, what do you say?"
What she wants to say is, You little bastard.
What she actually says is, "That's so generous, Jane," and slips her hand into John's. "We'd love to."
Because she knows now what she ought to have realised from the beginning – he is still playing them. This is all part of his game. She'd thought it finished last night and that her game had begun today, but no – as always with Jane, he's been keeping the real trick up his sleeve.
John looks at her and opens his mouth, but she squeezes his hand; he smiles quickly and says, "Of course we would."
"More water, Lisbon?"
"Thank you, Jane."
They smile maliciously at each other across the table. The rest of the team glance nervously at each other and play with their food.
John is fully on board with continuing the deception; he's having the time of his life putting his arm around her shoulders, playing with her hair and occasionally pressing kisses to her cheek. This, it is apparent to everyone but Lisbon, is only making things worse. With each caress, Jane's smile becomes more brittle; the pulsating vessel at his temple becomes more pronounced and the grip on his water glass grows tighter.
"So," he says, falsely bright, "I love hearing romantic stories – why don't you tell us what happened last night, Lisbon?"
"Well," she says, a trace of venom in her grin, "it was really bizarre, Jane. Wasn't it, honey?"
"Oh, certainly, dearest," John agrees, wrapping a curl around his thumb.
"You see, Jane, there was some kind of terrible mix-up," she continues, not even blinking now. Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt are attempting to shrink in their seats without disappearing under the table. "Someone must have led the staff to believe that John was going to propose. Now, I'm sure I don't know who would do something like that – or why – but it was the best surprise possible."
"A dream!" John interjects, kissing her hair.
"You see, John and I got talking last night, and we both realised – well, neither of us are getting any younger, are we? We've been great friends for years, and we certainly find each other attractive. So we just figured – what the hell? Let's go for it!"
"Incredible!" Jane says, raising a glass. "Well, bravo, Lisbon – and John, of course. A toast, everybody, to the happy couple!"
The repetition of, "To the happy couple!" from around the table is rather subdued.
Lisbon and Jane each take a sip, their eyes never leaving each other.
You'll break first, she promises.
Never, my dear, he swears.
It's only when they get back to the CBI building, though, that she begins to spot the other aspects of his behaviour. With herself and the team, he's been delivering full-wattage smiles and cheer. In view of others, though, he's doing… something else.
He starts snarling at people.
At first she thinks she's imagining it, but she sees it up close when they're all trekking through the security scanners – what a motley crew they must look – and Eddie, who's been watching Jane carefully since he came through the front door, dares to ask, "Mr Jane, is everything -?"
And then she hears it. That strange, low noise in his throat. If it were that alone, she might suspect he had a cough or something. But when he turns, she sees the ugly twist to his mouth and the hard edge to his glare, and it's all she can do to hold in a gasp.
Why on earth would he behave like that? It's the obvious question, but she sees no obvious answer. Eddie is a kind, careful man who has never had any trouble with Jane.
It's only after she sees him doing it to other people that she starts to realise – this is part of the game, too. The final straw is when he bumps into Colin, the mailroom guy, quite deliberately and then has the audacity to growl, "Watch where you're going."
"Jane," she snaps. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Yeah, man," Cho steps in unexpectedly. "You're acting crazy."
"Crazy," Jane repeats, almost to himself. He nods, chuckling. "Yes, I suppose it would seem that way, wouldn't it?"
When he doesn't elaborate further, Lisbon steps forward, intending to steer him into her office for a talk. But he veers backwards as her hand approaches his elbow, almost stumbling into Brenda, who is passing behind him. Brenda has to dart to one side with a surprised shriek. By now there are people gathering around. "Jane," Lisbon tries again. "What's going on?"
"What's going on?" he repeats, much louder than necessary. "I can't stand this, Lisbon! I… I won't stand for it!" He jabs his finger in John's direction. "He thinks he can just show up and take you away? You think you can get away from me? I'll show you. I'll show all of you!"
And he wheels unsteadily, pushing through the crowd and disappearing up the stairs.
"What… the hell?" she mutters, staring at John and the others. Their disbelief matches hers.
If this is part of the game, she has no idea what's coming next.
"Agent Lisbon? Would you care to explain what's going on?"
Her shoulders slump as she turns to face Wainwright. "At this point, sir, I'm not even sure I can."
Author's Note: Aahahahaha. The plot thickens! Or… remains much the same consistency as before, whatever. Next chapter: everything blows up. In the meantime, I would love to hear your thoughts – please review!